"Kameko…"
The elves looked into Crovax's face. A strange, rosy light shone in his open eyes, even though they were rolled back in his head. Thin vapor, like breath on a cold morning, trickled from his open mouth. His teeth appeared sharp, like those of a wolf or a shark, and his body was larger and stronger than it had looked when the elves had seen him for the first time back at Chireef. Worst of all, something was moving under Crovax's skin-small bumps in the flesh of his face moved about of their own volition.
The forgotten sergeant threw himself on Darian. Down they went in a heap, grappling for the elf's bare knife. Kameko was about to help his friend when the seemingly inert Crovax grabbed him by the wrist.
"Darian! Help!"
Darian had his own problems. The Vec sergeant was strong and outweighed him by thirty pounds. Darian raked the Vec's cheek with his knife tip, drawing blood. The sergeant responded with several pounding blows to the face, and Darian saw the room swimming away in a black haze.
Crovax lifted his head. He pursed his lips and whistleda slow, eerie tune. Kameko drew his knife with his left hand, but before he could thrust it through a joint in Crovax's armor, the enemy commander effortlessly crushed his wrist. Bones snapped and ground together, a sickening sound. Kameko screamed and fell to his knees, dropping his knife.
Marching side by side in their stolen helmets and cloaks, Cardamel and Sanyu heard shouting inside the camp. All the cavalry on the perimeter turned and galloped down paths between the tents, toward the center of the camp.
"What do we do?" Sanyu asked.
"Keep walking. We're sentries-we can't leave our post," Cardamel replied.
After much shouting and dashing about, a percher appeared, flapping its narrow wings and blaring the message given to it.
"Assassins! Assassins have tried to kill the commander! Two elves are caught! More may be around! Stand your ground! Assassins! Assassins…"
"We've got to get out of here," Cardamel said, throwing down the crossbow.
"But our comrades-"
"Our comrades are dead, and we will be too if we don't leave now!"
They bolted for the wire grass. Twenty-five yards away, four kerl riders spotted them and gave chase. The elves split up, Cardamel running to the right and Sanyu to the left. Two riders followed each fugitive. Cardamel knew he couldn't outrun the tireless kerls, so after topping a slight rise, he whirled and drew the short spear off his back. He knelt on one knee and braced the spear with his foot.
The first rider came tearing over the hill and plowed right into Cardamel's spear. The kerl made a flat, bleating sound and heeled over, greasy green blood gushing from its chest. The rider hit the ground heavily and lay stunned. Cardamel planted a foot on the thrashing kerl's chest and yanked out his spear. The second rider hauled on his reins, twisting his beast away from the fallen kerl. Cardamel leaned back and cast his spear. It caught the cavalryman in the chest. His armor saved him, but the impact knocked him backward off the kerl's abbreviated rump. Before he could rise and call for help, Cardamel cut his throat.
Running for all he was worth, Cardamel despaired. Kameko and Darian lost-Valin was as good as lost. He prayed Sanyu would evade pursuit and make it back to Eladamri.
He ran more than a mile before he felt safe enough to check behind him. Wire grass whipped in the Hub wind, but there were no signs of further pursuit. Weary, Cardamel slumped to his knees. His bold plan was in ruins, and his brave comrades sacrificed. What a terrible farce!
"Get up."
He looked up into the grim face of Eladamri. Cardamel opened his mouth to speak, but the rebel leader cut him off with a curt wave of his hand.
"Save your entreaties! You disobeyed me, Cardamel! How many warriors did you lose on your mogg's errand?"
Mutely Cardamel held up three fingers.
"So. That's the price we've paid for your night of foolishness."
Just then a courier ran up. "Eladamri! Eladamri, a message from Tant Jova!" He handed the elf leader a square of cloth on which the Vec matriarch had penned a note. Eladamri read it and hurled the scrap into Cardamel's face.
"Worse news! Your bungling has raised a general alarm in the enemy camp, and their cavalry have found the Vec warriors hiding at the edge of the swamp! All our preparations are in jeopardy!"
Miserable, Cardamel drew his knife. He sat there, despondently fingering the blade. Eladamri took it away from him.
"There's no point in dying now," he said evenly. "There's fighting to be done."
Cardamel looked at his leader. "May I go in the vanguard?" Eladamri nodded, and gave him back his knife.
The clamor of distant combat grew until it overcame the constant wind. It was not yet midnight, hours before the planned attack, but all of a sudden the elves had a major battle on their hands.
Ertai slid off the crystal base of the power infuser. His formerly aching body felt supple and fit after a few minutes of exposure to the power stream. Cracking his knuckles, he tried the passing fire exercise again. This time the tiny flame was black from the start, even though he willed a yellow flame. He snuffed the ebon flicker and for a moment had the frightening thought that the treatments would alter him permanently, like the unfortunate guards who first brought him there.
Scrounging around the laboratory, he found a metal tray among Volrath's equipment and anxiously studied his reflection in it. It was still Ertai who gazed back at himwasn't it? Same shock of blond hair, same flat nose, same weak chin. He thrust his jaw forward as he often had when he was a boy, trying to correct the receding line of his chin. It sank back into place when he relaxed. Same old Ertai.
He was glad to be healed. His talent was too valuable to waste on a meaningless death, but he wondered what sort of bargain he'd made. Could he really become ruler of an entire world? Ruling Rath could not be a comfortable position. Mysterious overlords above and seething revolution below-no, being evincar was no job for a sane man. Let Crovax have it. Sanity was not a handicap Crovax enjoyed.
His stomach growled. Meals were a problem in the Citadel. Belbe never ate, and neither did Greven. Of course, he was sure he didn't want to see what-or who-Greven il-Vec ate. But hungry he was, so he returned to Volrath's study deep in the laboratory. Amidst the bizarre apparatus and dripping, vile-smelling beakers was an island of cabinets, chairs, and a monumental desk. A dark, polished wood cabinet looked promising, and the lock broke easily when he applied a psychokinetic spell. It contained a number of obvious wine bottles and some paper-wrapped bundles that Ertai assumed were food. The bundles contained hard yellow biscuits. He sat down in one of Volrath's many oversized chairs and nibbled a biscuit experimentally. It was dry and slightly salty but better than nothing.
Ertai propped his feet up on a misshapen mogg skull lying on the floor. Marks on the bony cranium revealed the former master of Rath once had the same habit.
What was his best course of action? Crovax would likely murder him given the slightest provocation, likewise Greven. Belbe was friendly enough but cold as ice. If it served her mission for him to die, he wasn't sure she would object.
The cracker gone, he began on another. There was still the Phyrexian transplanar device in Portal Canyon. If he could get there, Ertai knew he could operate it. Trouble was, Portal
Canyon was a long way from the Stronghold. Getting there was a problem, and getting there without being stopped was an even bigger conundrum.
The only course, as he saw it, was to continue to play along with Belbe. That way he had the freedom of the Citadel and could improve his magical knowledge and his control of flow-stone. Then, when the time was right, he'd get to Portal Canyon.